


Beautiful Dreamer

by UrsulaAngstrom



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaAngstrom/pseuds/UrsulaAngstrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky gets jealous wondering:   Who is Hutch dreaming about?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Dreamer

Beautiful Dreamer

by Ursula Angstrom  
first shared over a decade ago under the pen name Larkspur

 

"Take it off," Hutch murmured.

The seductive pitch of Hutchinson's voice gave Starsky goosebumps.

Who ARE you dreaming about? Starsky wondered as he looked at the sleeping beauty sprawled in the back seat of the Torino.

Hutch's cock was getting harder by the minute. 

Come on Hutch, cream those jeans! I wanna see the look on your face when you wake up and realize you had a wet dream in the back of the Torino while we were on stakeout. I'll never let you live it down!

Smiling as he watched Hutch twitch and squirm, Starsky became even more intrigued when his partner said, "That's it. One button at a time…"

Hutch had dated some beautiful women… Which one of them is stripping in your dream? Starsky wondered.

"You are so beautiful." Hutch murmured.

So are you, Partner. So are you… Starsky thought, envying the woman only Hutch could see. Because that woman had probably seen Hutch naked and even more aroused than he was right now.

Starsky's wistful smile turned into a jealous glare as Hutchinson arced off the seat and moaned blissfully.

Starsky wanted to be someone who could make Hutch moan like THAT. 

The plaintive, yearning groan was so full of want, so full of need, the sound turned Starsky's soul inside out! 

Hutch hadn't been with a woman for a long time. He claimed he hadn't met anyone interesting, but Starsky knew for a fact that he had. The girl who ran the new flower shop at the end of the block was drop-dead gorgeous and VERY interested in Hutch and his greenhouse; but they'd never gone beyond discussing root rot, hybrids and aeration as far as Starsky could tell.

"When are you going to get to the good part?" Starsky asked him earlier tonight as they patrolled their beat on the way to the stakeout. 

His brow-waggling leer made Hutch chuckle. "The good part?"

"You know: The part where you invite Renata over to see your new orchids and end up having hot steamy sex in that private little Eden of yours."

Hutchinson's incredulous snort quickly turned into a head-tossing outburst of rollicking laughter. "I have etchings, Starsk." Still chuckling, Hutch said, "Hot steamy sex in my own private little Eden. Don't tell me you're secretly writing smutty paperback romances too!"

A publisher had recently bought the rights to a very steamy romance novel their stewardess friend Cathy Marshall had written. Gold Shields was a thinly disguised, imaginatively written tale of sisters being romanced--in two different lifetimes--by a blond guy and a guy with dark curly hair. In the first lifetime, the guys are two knights of the Round Table named Sir Henry and Sir Steven who carried gold shields when they went into battle. Later, they are reincarnated as Hank and Steve, two modern-day cops working the mean streets of L.A. In both scenarios they rescue Cathy's doppelgangers, the damsels in distress. 

Chuckling wickedly, Starsky said, "I could write one if I wanted to. You gotta admit, your greenhouse would make a great backdrop for a torrid sex scene. We'll call it Prelude To Seduction and you can be the tall blond stud who gets to ravish the horticultural consultant in the Eden-like surroundings of his boudoir."

"Dirty old man," Hutch snickered, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Who you callin' 'old'?" Starsky grumbled.

"You! You horny Aries ram! All you ever think about is rutting. You've got sex on the brain Starsk."

"Isn't that a drink?"

"That's Sex on the Beach."

"Sounds good to me!"

"Sex anywhere/anytime sounds good to you, Starsky. You think about sex 24/7."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. If you're an alleycat in heat."

"MrrrOW!" Starsky purred, his sultry voice pitched to a very seductive crescendo as he mimicked a horny tomcat trying to woo a potential mate in the shadows of the night.

Me and my big mouth, Starsky sulked, unable to take his eyes off his handsome partner as Hutch writhed in the back seat of his car. All that fantasizing out loud turned Hutch on, but he's dreamin' about her, not me.

"That's it," Hutch murmured in his sleep. "One button at a time, Babe."

Renata made her own clothes. Funky Hippie/Renaissance-looking dresses with lots of little buttons that looked like charms or talisman. Renata carved the wooden buttons herself, like scrimshaw, etching animal totems, runes and other esoteric symbols onto the face of the buttons in minute detail. 

Starsky had had more than one fantasy about unbuttoning those one-of-a kind dresses while savoring the sight of Renata's curvaceous body slowly being revealed to him. He couldn't blame Hutch for having similar dreams about the red-haired beauty, but he wanted Hutch to dream about HIM for a change.

THAT would be a dream come true, Starsky thought, sighing wistfully. Hutch dreaming about ME stripping for him in private. 

One of Starsky's favorite fantasies was the one where he was moonlighting as an exotic dancer for an outcall service. Until he met Hutch those fantasies involved him shaking his booty in private for a room full of lusty ladies watching him dance on stage in a strip club. Women who'd write their phone numbers on the bills they slipped into his thong. The notes on the bills would say: Be MY Private Dancer or Call Me ANYTIME! 

Then he met Ken Hutchinson and a metamorphosis began to take place in his psyche. Starsky quit dreaming about shaking his booty in a strip club full of women and he started having erotic dreams about becoming the booty of a blond Viking pirate who made him his love slave. 

In those dreams Starsky would get a call dispatching him to a pier where he would board a private yacht. A steward would escort him to the Captain's Cabin and there he would find Hutch decadently lounging on the floor in a nest of pillows, surrounded by a bevy of beautiful women. 

Beautiful as Apollo, imperious as Thor, Hutch would tell him to dance, and Starsky would do a provocative striptease in a gilded room encrusted with jewels. 

When he was just beginning to fall in love with his handsome partner, Starsky would dream that the pirate Hutch would promise him his pick of those beautiful women as his reward if he danced well. 

"Perform well and I will let you make love to any of my attendants," Hutch would murmur in those early dreams. Those ice-fire eyes watching him avidly as he danced to entice; stripped to enflame.

Sometimes the women danced with him and they undressed each other for Hutch's pleasure. In the midst of the orgy that followed, Hutch would always join them and that would change the dynamics of the erotic scene.

Dreams that began as fantasies of them making love to the same beautiful woman sandwiched between them quickly became passionate revelries where Hutch ravished him and only him.

Decadently sexist fantasies to be sure, but Starsky enjoyed every one of them. 

As time went on, the women gradually disappeared from his erotic dreams and Starsky just dreamed about making love with Hutch. In his dreams Starsky did what he wanted to do in real life: Drop to his knees in the midst of his dance and worshipfully suck the cock of the only man he'd ever desired. 

In his dreams he'd pleasure Hutch repeatedly. Brazenly doing anything Hutch desired. Wantonly enjoying everything Hutch did to him.

"I love your hair," Hutch sighed, breaking Starsky's concentration like a mirror being hurled across a room.

Renata had glorious auburn hair; long, thick tendrils of it that cascaded down her back in rippling waves. 

"It's so soft, so plentiful," Hutch babbled in his sleep.

That's an understatement, Starsky brooded. Renata accidentally came into Tresses when they were working there undercover as hair stylists. As soon as she saw him in that zebra striped shirt and Hutch in those red plastic glasses that had lenses shaped like apples, Renata started laughing. 

"Who are YOU supposed to be, Elton John?" 

Scowling, Hutch sassily retorted, "My name is Bruce and don't you forget it, Sweetheart."

Starsky usually called her "Schweetheart"--while imitating Humphrey Bogart--so Renata knew something was up.

Puzzled, but quick-witted, the clever florist realized with wide-eyed wonder that they were on an undercover op and if she called them by their real names she'd blow their cover.

Flushed, but sassy, Renata smiled at him while she fingered his zebra striped shirt and said, "Then you must be Dick. Because your pal's one batty man to go out in public in THOSE sunglasses."

Renata's wry comment made several of the female patrons laugh and a few of them scowl, because her poise made them wish they possessed her style and flair. 

Caressing his crotch with her eyes when she said the word "Dick" made Starsky's cock throb. Renata was a desirable woman. Starsky wanted her too, but not as much as he wanted Hutch. Starsky had never desired anyone as much as he desired Ken Hutchinson.

Hutch pretended to sulk after Renata made that insulting comment about his sunglasses because he had to stay in character. Starsky was the one who got to wash and dry Renata's hair as Hutch silently fumed with envy. Starsky knew firsthand just how soft and luxuriant Renata's long red hair felt when it was wet and when it was dry.

Starsky couldn't blame his partner for fantasizing about Renata's hair while he slept. They both shared a deep an abiding appreciation for beautiful hair. Every woman they'd ever dated had distinctive coiffures.

Hutch got to weave satin ribbons into Renata's hair that day because Starsky did not know how to do it. Remembering how his sisters had plaited their long hair as children, Hutch made Starsky and several of the female patrons very jealous as he sang Black Bean Soup to Renata while he braided her hair. The line where he sang, "and wear your ribbons for me" melted the hearts of everyone that coveted Hutch in the salon.

"I've wanted to run my fingers through it since I met you," Hutch confessed in a dreamy murmur.

Tell me something I DON’T know, Starsky grumbled in the privacy of his own thoughts as he sulked in the front seat of the Torino.

Glaring at the jewelry store across the street from their hiding place, Starsky willed the heist to commence so he wouldn't have to listen to Hutch ramble any more. 

I don't want to hear any more about the ruby-haired vixen you're dreamin' about, partner. I feel like I'm burnin' up inside every time I look at you Hutch. This jealousy is devouring me!

"You are so beautiful." Hutch murmured. "So virile."

VIRILE!!!

Starsky's eyes nearly popped out of his head! Hutch was dreaming about a guy???!!!!!

Heart slamming against his ribcage, Starsky watched his friend sleep in stunned disbelief.

Hutch wasn't dreaming about Renata at all. He was dreaming about some guy with great hair and a big cock.

"No. Let me," Hutch pleaded.

The raw yearning in Hutch's voice made Starsky ache inside.

Spellbound, Starsky listened to Hutch ramble, fists clenched in a jealous rage while he waited for Hutch to reveal the object of his secret desires.

Who's belt are you unbuckling? 

Who's fly are you unzipping?

Tormented by doubts and secret desires of his own, Starsky thought, You better be dreaming about ME! as he watched Hutch smile beatifically in his sleep.

"Magnificent," Hutch murmured.

Hutch sounded awestruck.

Heart plummeting like he'd been pushed out of a plane without a parachute, Starsky knew Hutch wasn't dreaming about him after all. Hutch was dreaming about Drake Wells, the buff rookie cop who'd just started working a Metro Precinct. 

I'm hung, but I'm not THAT hung Starsky sulked, convinced that Hutch was having a wet dream about the Herculean proportions of the rookie cop's Incredible Hulk physique.

Magnificent was a word that described Drake Wells perfectly. The young body builder looked like one of the ancient gods Boris Vallejo drew on the sci-fi calendars and book jackets he illustrated. The man was so perfectly proportioned and extremely muscular he looked like a statue of a savage warrior come to life. Drake Wells had a raw, primal quality that made everyone think he was one of those big shape-changing jaguars from the movie Cat People with Nastasia Kinski. He and Hutch both saw the same image in their minds when they saw the stunning rookie walk into Metro Precinct for the first time. Hutch saw Drake as a man changing into a jaguar in mid-pounce from a mountain cliff. Starsky saw a green-eyed jaguar morphing into a man as he slowly emerged from the verdant shadows of a Brazilian jungle.

Drake Wells was without a doubt the most dramatically beautiful man Starsky had ever seen. No one would disagree with the many smitten women at Metro Precinct who said Drake was too beautiful to be a cop. The general consensus was: Drake should be a movie star.

Starsky wasn't surprised to learn that Drake had posed for Vallejo once. Bedeviled by images of Drake posing for Hutch in the studio area of Venice Place, Starsky thought: Don't say his name. I can't handle it, Partner.

Every time Drake looked at Hutch, his dark eyes smoldered with undisguised lust. 

Starsky had caught the young rookie covertly admiring his partner in the showers and the locker room at the precinct several times. Each time an incident like that happened, Starsky felt provoked. 

Starsky realized it would be like a terrier challenging a mastiff to pick a fight with Drake Wells, but he didn't care. The last time he caught Wells checking out his partner's ass, Starsky transfixed the rookie with and angry glare and told him, "Keep your eyes to yourself. Hutch don't sway that way."

"That's not what I heard," Drake replied, chuckling and smirking like he knew something Starsky didn't.

"You'll hear a lot of things about us around here that's not true," Starsky warned the horny rookie.

Before he could add, "Don’t get your hopes up, Chump" Drake laughed and said, "I'm not talkin' about gossip I heard around here. I know what's real and what's rumor."

"Do you now?" Starsky scoffed, incredulous until Drake said, "I do. The question is: do you?"

Starsky didn't like the vicious undertone of that cocky double entendre so he punched Drake Wells so hard he broke one of his knuckles hitting the kid's jaw. But it was worth the pain because he knocked the smirking voyeur out with one punch. Drake toppled like a tree felled in the forest, taking a row of lockers with him as he fell backwards and crashed to the floor.

Starsky was suspended without pay for two weeks for that incident. Neither he or Wells ever told Dobey why he punched the rookie's lights out. Starsky told Hutch why he did it, but Hutch just said, "You're lucky he didn't press charges, Starsky."

"You didn't see the way he was looking at you Hutch. It was covetous."

"So you decided to punch him out because he said something lewd to you and because he leered at me. Not bright, Starsky. You're just lucky that Goliath had a glass jaw. If he'd been able to take that punch Drake could have clobbered you good. Did you even notice the size of his hands?"

"No," Starsky grumbled, snarling because it was obvious that Hutch had noticed the size of Drake's hands. Starsky couldn't help but wonder what else Hutch had noticed--and admired--about the splendid anatomy of Drake Wells. 

Then, as now, Hutch's observation was like rubbing salt in an open wound. Because the only time Starsky noticed someone's hands was when he wanted them wrapped around his cock or he was searching for clues.

Hutch had beautiful hands; strong, but gentle. Those hands had touched him many times in many ways, but never in the intimate ways Starsky secretly craved when he fantasized about Hutch.

Drake's implication that Hutch had touched another man with those beguiling hands infuriated Starsky. 

The only thing that made Starsky angrier was that Hutch had noticed the size of Drake's hands and he was dreaming about those hands roaming all over his body right now!

Hutch was writhing in the back seat of the Torino like a man being caressed by invisible fingers. The phantom lover Hutch was dreaming about was driving his gorgeous partner wild!

Tormented by the rhapsodized expression on Hutchinson's face, Starsky felt every word slash him like a knife as Hutch said, "I can't wait to feel that inside me."

"You son of a bitch!" Starsky swore under his breath, his eyes as venomous as his voice when he glared at Hutch and thought of Drake's innuendo.

Blinded by the green-eyed monster Jealousy, Starsky wondered for the umpteenth time what Drake Wells knew about Hutch that he didn't.

Always discreet, Hutch was a man who guarded his privacy. If Hutch had a secret he'd take it to his grave.

Moaning like a hedonist, Hutch undulated in ecstasy.

Starsky tried to remind himself that Hutch had the flu and he was feverish. Liu Zhang's herbal remedies always made Hutch horny and talkative, but Starsky's compassion was stretched to the breaking point. The mere thought of another man pleasuring Hutch with his cock was driving Starsky out of his mind with envy.

When Hutch groaned, "That feels so good!" Starsky went from angry to furious so fast he almost didn't hear what Hutch said next because he was so overwhelmed by his torrential emotions.

"So good, Starsk. So good," Hutch chanted.

Rocking in cadence to the imaginary thrusts of HIS cock, NOT Drake's, Hutch reached into his jeans, yanked out his cock and fisted himself to one cum-dinger of an orgasm in the back of Starsky's Torino.

Starsky couldn't believe his eyes! Or his ears!

Hutch wantonly pumped that long, luscious cock in his sleep as those ripe, muscular ass cheeks contracted with unabashed glee. 

Watching Hutch pleasure himself was a mind-blowing experience. Starsky balls started to contract as soon as the Torino began to rock in time to Hutch's dream humping. Hearing Hutch groan," Give it to me! Only me!" turned Starsky inside out.

Hearing Hutch yell "STARSKEEEE!" as he came all over the Torino's leather upholstery made Starsky cream his jeans too. Hutch looked so beautiful in the throes of orgasm. By the time that thick, hard cock finished erupting like Mt. Vesuvius, the black cashmere sweater Starsky had bought Hutch for Christmas was drenched in cum too.

Starsky knew Hutch was sick when he didn't wake up after a wet dream like THAT.

Hutch opened his eyes briefly, scowled grumpily, thrashed once and rolled onto his side.

If the big, blond klutz hadn't got his foot caught under the front seat and twisted his ankle he might have slept half the night in a fetal position with his cock still in his hand.

Starsky tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it. His washboard abs were spasming so hard from trying to suppress laughter he nearly gave himself a hernia when Hutch froze in mid-"Ow!" and suddenly realized what had happened.

The expression on Hutch's face was priceless. Hutch went from What the Hell? to Oh, Shit! in the span of four lurching heartbeats.

Starsky laughed so uproariously he frightened a cat out of a nearby trash dumpster with the explosive outburst of sound.

Yowling peevishly, the marmalade orange cat hopped onto the hood of the Torino and ran out of the alley like it was being chased by hounds from Hell.

Eyes closed, Hutch cringed, dying from embarrassment--literally and figuratively--because his jeans had slipped down far enough for Starsky to reach out and tickle his bare ass.

"Hey, Moonbeam," Starsky teased as he caressed Hutch's butt crack. "Keep it down! You just scared the furballs out of Garfield."

Frozen in place as Starsky gave his ass a playful swat followed by a covetous caress, Hutch stared at his sticky cock in disbelief as he noticed the frothy mess on his black sweater.

Snorting mischievously Starsky hopped onto the passenger side of the Torino's front seat with a gloating leer on his face. 

"It looks like cappuccino machine exploded all over your bullet proof vest, Super Stud."

"Oh, shut up," Hutch grumbled, unable to meet Starsky's eyes as he bashfully tucked himself back into his gaping button-front jeans.

Laughing in triumphant wonder, Starsky plucked a blue button off the top edge of the seat where it had landed like a disk from Tiddly-Winks game.

Winking at Hutch--and the cock he wanted to twiddle--Starsky gave his partner one of his rakish lopsided leers and said, "Button, Button, who's got the button?" Then he tucked the button into the pocket of his blue t-shirt as Hutch tried to grab it, saying, "Give me THAT!"

"No way, Sir Open Fly! Finder's Keepers--Loser's Weepers" Starsky sing-songed. "That button is MINE!"

"All mine…" Starsky purred, his voice going sultry with longing as he reached out and tenderly caressed Hutch's sweaty face. "Just like the rest of you," Starsky gloated as he leaned over the seat and gave his surprised partner a slow, loving kiss that made Hutch's heart melt.

As soon as their lips touched, Hutch knew that he'd talked in his sleep. Fevers made him babble and he'd just had one ball-shattering wet dream about his sexy partner.

"What'd I say?" Hutch murmured, gathering Starsky close as the curly-haired imp eagerly climbed over the front seat into the back seat and wantonly straddled his thighs like an exotic dancer giving him a lap dance.

Having Starsky's hard, undulating body is his arms was a dream come true! Hutch couldn't believe how good that warm, muscular body felt as Starsky kissed him ravenously.

"You said everything" Starsky gasped, his voice breathless with wonder and joy. "Everything I needed to hear--and more."

Capturing Hutch's face between tender, reverent hands, Starsky cherished Hutch's features with his hot yearning eyes and warm loving fingers.

Eyes sparkling wickedly, Starsky demanded, "More" as he tantalized Hutch with seductive kisses.

Hutch could refuse Starsky nothing.

As soon as their tongues twined he was lost. Lost in a passionate vortex of sensation that spiraled inside of him until he was dizzy with desire. 

Hutch moaned blissfully.

Starsky's dream kisses were wonderful, but the reality of Starsky's kisses was incredible.

Hutch couldn't get enough of that beguiling mouth. One kiss and he was hooked! Hutch knew he would crave Starsky's kisses for the rest of his life. Those petal soft lips and that sensual tongue were addictive. 

"More," Hutch pleaded breathlessly.

Smiling wantonly, Starsky happily obliged.

The decadent shape of Hutch's lips had always intrigued Starsky. One kiss was not enough. It would never be enough. 

Starsky loved to cuddle and smooch, so he told Hutch what was in his heart.  
"I could spend a lifetime kissing you Hutch."

"Told you I was a good kisser," Hutch gloated.

"Braggart," Starsky grumbled, kissing Hutch breathless.

Head spinning, lungs seizing, Hutch said, "Stop!" barely managing to gasp out the plea before his congested lungs spasmed from oxygen deprivation. 

Forced to bury his face in Starsky's shoulder when a coughing jag suddenly claimed him, Hutch clung to Starsky as Starsky held him tight.

Holding Hutch close, Starsky rubbed his partners convulsing back with one hand as he twined his fingers in the silky curls that appeared in the blond's fine hair when it was wet. The only time those curls appeared was when Hutch sweaty after a run or a steam bath or when his hair was still damp after a hot shower or wet from a rainstorm.

Starsky loved those Now You See Them/Now You Don't blond curls. They were magical. Just like Hutch--and rainbows.

"Easy there, Rainbow. I've got you." Starsky crooned.

Hutch tried not to cough because hacking up a wad of phlegm at such a moment was hardly a romantic thing to do. Some things were unavoidable though: death, taxes, change--and mucus in your lungs when you had a chest cold.

"Gross," Hutch grumbled apologetically when he got done hacking.

Unable to meet Starsky's eyes again, the bashful blond said, "Sorry."

Starsky just laughed, kissed Hutch's sweaty temple, and said, "Furballs are everywhere tonight, Blintz. Don't worry about it."

Hutch didn't know what Starsky was babbling about until he saw the orange and white cat watching them curiously from his new perch on a nearby fire escape above the Torino.

Soothing Hutch's flushed face with his hands before he kissed his partner's blushing cheeks, Starsky said, "You should be home in bed, Babe."

"Who's bed? Mine or yours?"

Hutch's eyes were a bit glazed but he was feeling no pain. His cock was fully erect again and Starsky had impishly pushed it under his t-shirt so Hutch could rub it against the rippling muscles beneath the hair on his belly.

"Either one," Starsky murmured as he stroked Hutch's cock while Hutch unzipped his fly.

"Doesn't matter to me," Starsky assured Hutch as the ornery blond eagerly reciprocated the naughty caress. Stroking Starsky's cock too, Hutch mischievously tucked it up under the soft fuzzy fabric of his black cashmere sweater.

"It matters to me," Hutch said, wincing as he felt another sneeze coming on.

"Don't you dare!" Starsky objected as Hutch tried to let go of his penis so he could cover his mouth when he sneezed.

Starsky had to let Hutch's cock go to grab Ken’s wrists and immobilize them, but Hutch had no air left in his lungs to complain. Abruptly tossing his head over Starsky's shoulder, Hutch sneezed explosively, bonking his head against Starsky's head as he did so.

"Klutz," Starsky chided affectionately, his hands soothing Hutch briefly before they snuck back under his t-shirt to tease his partner's cock some more.

"You're definitely going to get my cold now. You've got boogers in your curls," Hutch said, his throat feeling as raw and as scorched as a dragon's maw.

Chortling huskily, Starsky nuzzled Hutch's neck and nipped his earlobe.

"Don't be disgusting. I'm trying to seduce you here."

"And you're doing a damn fine job of it, Greedy Fingers. If you keep that up your t-shirt is going to look like my sweater when we turn it inside out later."

"I know," Starsky gloated. "That's why I'm rubbin' you against my belly hair. A little bird told me you'd like that."

"A 'little' bird?" Hutch teased. 

Hutch loved the way Starsky was stroking his cock as much as he loved how Starsky's cock felt in his hands. 

"Not 'this' bird," Starsky teased as he gave Hutch's cock an affectionate yank that made his partner groan. "He hit the high note later, but you were singin' like a canary long before you cried out my name when you came."

Hutch's eyes widened comically as he gasped, "I didn't…"

Starsky laughed. "You DID," Starsky gloated.

"Oh, God," Hutch groaned.

Starsky chuckled.

Closing his eyes again, Hutch cringed.

If Starsky had not been stroking his cock so avidly, it too would have shriveled in embarrassment.

"Don't tell me I talked in my sleep from the time that dream started."

"You did if it started with you saying, 'Take it off' and ended with you screaming my name in sex-tasy," Starsky bragged.

Hutch laughed, but he was still blushing bashfully after he kissed the sexy little mole imbedded in Starsky's left cheek as they fondled each other.

"I think you meant ecstasy."

"That too," Starsky chuckled, kissing Hutch exultantly as they made each other moan.

"We shouldn't be doing this while we're on duty, Starsk."

"Try and stop me."

Hutch's chuckle suddenly turned into an orgasmic groan when Starsky stroked him just right.

"Don't stop!" Hutch pleaded.

"I won't" Starsky assured him, kissing Hutch deeply, before he whispered, "Give it to me, Babe. Give me all you got."

That's all Starsky had to say to push Hutch over the edge of passion's precipice. Hutch came like a cliff diver plunging into surf head-first. Nearly fainting from the sheer intensity of the pleasure, Hutch erupted like a geyser all over Starsky's t-shirt as he felt Starsky do the same all over his sweater when he held on tight and squeezed those throbbing balls.

Cock exploding like fireworks in mid-air Starsky screamed, "HUUUTCH!" as he soared in a freefall of passion too.

Ejaculating copiously, Starsky's cock inundated Hutch's chest like a cloudburst; making him feel like a rainbow as he savored the scent of his partner's cum as it mingled with his own in the soft black threads of his sweater.

Gratified and resplendent, Hutch smiled and said, "I really feel like a black sheep now," referring to his sweater and his rebellious spirit as he avidly ran his fingers through Starsky's fleecy dark curls.

Starsky's snort turned into a chuckle as he kissed Hutch.

"That was a baaaad joke," Starsky scolded, mimicking a braying sheep when he said the word 'bad'.

Hutch laughed.

"Your Bogart imitation sounds like Cagney and your sheep imitation sounds like a goat."

"It does not!" Starsky grumbled. "But you make me feel horny as a goat Hutch."

"No kidding," Hutch marveled, because Starsky's cock was already becoming erect again. "You're gonna wear me out," Hutch predicted.

"That's the plan, Blintz."

Starsky's smile was as radiant as moonlight.

Spellbound, Hutch lifted his hips as Starsky slid warm, covetous hands over his bare ass and rolled them over so he could caress the blond's backside with greater ease.

Teasing Hutch with song, Starsky paraphrased two different songs as he pushed Hutch's jeans and briefs farther down those muscular thighs. "I know you like it on top," Starsky warbled. "So dribble of those Wrangler jeans and let me do as I please."

Laughing Hutch kissed his favorite scamp and said, "Only YOU could mix lyrics like that and make them sound sexy, Starsk."

"I know. It's a gift."

"Speaking of gifts: Do you like how I look in the sweater you gave me?"

Starsky laughed. "With my cum and yours all over it? Hell yeah!"

Slipping his cock back under Starsky's t-shirt as he rubbed his cashmere-clad belly against Starsky's exposed cock, Hutch undulated sensuously and distracted Starsky with flirtatious kisses.

Starsky was more than willing to be stripped by his horny partner, but he started laughing as soon as Hutch pushed his brown leather jacket off his shoulders, snarling like a puppy as he gnashed the straps of his leather holster with those pearly white teeth. "Frisky tonight, huh?"

Sitting back on his heels, his knees straddling Starsky's sexy bowed legs, Hutch helped Starsky peel off his jacket. Then he helped Starsky peel off his holster so they could yank off the faded blue t-shirt.

"Much better," Hutch crooned, running avid fingertips through the sexy dark curls that peppered Starsky's muscular chest and torso.

Starsky's laughed devilishly.

"You've wanted to do this for how long?" Starsky gloated as he watched those long golden fingers caress his body like it was the most exquisite thing Hutch had ever touched in his life.

Voice as dreamy as the expression on his face, Hutch said, "I've wanted to run my fingers through your hair since the first time I saw you naked in the Academy showers."

Starting with the luxuriant curls on his head, Hutch raked his fingers through those as he kissed Starsky. Then he sensuously kissed he way down to Starsky's groin, lips following the wake of his fingers as his hands flowed over pecs, nipples, abs and cock.

"Glorious," Hutch murmured as he gently sucked the flaring head of Starsky's circumcised cock.

"You're cut and you're beautiful," Hutch murmured as he licked Starsky's cockslit and tickled those washboard abs with capricious fingers.

"Then suck me," Starsky pleaded. "I'm Kosher."

The joke made Hutch laugh and he kept on laughing as he tried to swallow Starsky whole.

The delightful vibration of Hutch's laughter oscillated against Starsky's cock like ripples from a rock thrown into a pond. Hutch gagged for a second, but quickly pulled back, moaning as he sucked Starsky's cock like a popsicle.

"Mmmm," Hutch hummed, creating a wondrous buzzing sensation in Starsky's cock. Pulling away slowly and sensuously, Hutch swallowed the trickle of Starsky's pre-cum greedily as he gave his partner a red-hot smile. "You taste better than a banana dipped in chocolate, Starsk."

"Glad you like me," Starsky murmured, caressing Hutch's cum-slick lower lip with a loving thumb.

"Like is an understatement," Hutch purred, rubbing his cheek against the soft curly hair that lightly dusted Starsky's thigh. "I love you, Starsk."

Passionately kissing Starsky's inner thigh, Hutch dove face-first between his partner's splayed legs and voraciously sucked Starsky's balls as he tugged those tight jeans down.

That poignant declaration of love, followed by such a passionate attack on his genitals, was too much for Starsky. When Hutch grabbed the base of his cock and shoved it in his mouth again, Starsky thrust ecstatically as he grabbed a handful of that silky blond hair.

Claiming what was rightfully his, Starsky gently but thoroughly ravished his partner's mouth as Hutch avidly learned how to deep throat him in ways that pleasured them both.

"Greedy bastard," Starsky gloated as Hutch's lips, hands, and tongue kept demanding, more, more, MORE!

Starsky couldn't believe how beautiful Hutch looked sucking his cock like that! Hutch looked like a fallen angel taking cum-munion from his loins. Hutch sucked him so worshipfully and so well, his partner's reverent loving made Starsky feel like a pagan priest in a Temple of Orthia, where rites of sacramental promiscuity were still practiced with carnal abandon.

"That's it, Babe. Make me hard for you."

"Harder," Starsky pleaded. "Harder!"

When his cock was rock hard and his balls were about to burst, Starsky grabbed a handful of Hutch's hair and reigned in his lusty palomino stallion by yanking on that beautiful mane of blond hair.

Hutch's face was so flushed and he looked so blissed out, Starsky said, "Are you delirious?"

"Delirious with desire," Hutch murmured before he kissed Starsky passionately.

Squeezing his partner's muscular backside was delightful. Hutch wanted him so badly he kept clenching his glutes like he was milking an imaginary cock.

"I want you, Hutch."

"Then take me!' Hutch pleaded raggedly.

"Here?"

"NOW!" Hutch demanded.

"In the Torino?" Starsky teased.

"NOW!" Hutch demanded imperiously.

Rolling Hutch over and body-slamming him against the leather seat, Starsky gleefully said, "You got it, Partner."

"Not yet I don't," Hutch growled impatiently.

Unable to resist the temptation of taking Hutch in the Torino, Starsky kicked off his sneakers and jeans, centered himself quickly, and laced the fingers of his right hand through Hutch's as he braced himself against the rear window. 

"Are you sure?" Starsky whispered as Hutch draped himself over the back seat like a man who couldn't wait to be skewered.

"Love me!" Hutch pleaded.

"I do!" Starsky sighed passionately as he gently penetrated Hutch's body with heart-bursting tenderness.

Expecting pain, Hutch tensed, but Starsky soothed his fears with sensuous kisses and curious fingers.

"Shhh, Baby Blue. Relax and let me make love to you," Starsky crooned.

Starsky had never made love to a man before, but he'd dreamed about making love to Hutch so often and for so long, he'd read everything he could find on the subject, so he'd at least have book smarts if his dreams ever came true.

Unprepared, Starsky had no choice but to use his own cum to make Hutch slick and ready for him.

Fortunately for them both, Starsky's cock was as juicy as it was thick, because Hutch was as tight as a virgin, and Starsky had the cock of a satyr.

It took Starsky a long time to loosen Hutch up, but he enjoyed every decadent moment of teasing Hutch open with tongue and his fingers.

Peeling Hutch's jacket off after he nipped his shoulders, Starsky removed the Magnum from the holster and laid it on the seat beside them, before he unsnapped the holster itself and tossed it over his shoulder onto the front seat of the Torino.

"Expecting trouble?" Hutch quipped, referring to the gleaming silver gun laying on the ebony leather seat.

"In case we're interrupted," Starsky murmured.

"Wise precaution," Hutch agreed, too far gone to care about propriety or the consequences of discovery at the moment.

Hutch wasn't worried about being ambushed by hoodlums. Any street punk dumb enough to interrupt Starsky in mid-fuck was going to get his head blown off for sure. 

Accidentally being discovered by fellow cops who might report them to Internal Affairs should have given him pause. But Hutch's cock was stuck on fast-forward right now. His pause button was broken.

"You were supposed to say: 'You plan on giving me any trouble, partner?' " Hutch teased.

Starsky chuckled.

Making a ‘gun’ out of his thumb and index finger, Starsky ticked Hutch's ribs with the muzzle of the ‘gun’, and picked up his cue. Mimicking his idea of a Texas drawl and said, "You plan on giving me any trouble, pardner?" 

Hutch giggled and said, "Not a lick, Marshall Starsky. Not a lick."

Laughing, Starsky swirled his tongue around the moles on the side of Hutch's neck and said, "I'm the only one gonna do any lickin' 'round here, Sundance."

Still giggling, Starsky impishly kissed his way up Hutch's spine before he yanked the black sweater off over the blond's fair head.

"Don't even go there," Starsky warned his partner as he made Hutch giggle and squirm. "I've fantasized about us playing Cops & Robbers for YEARS, Hutch."

"You have?"

"Haven't you?" Starsky asked knowing the answer as soon as he looked at Hutch's reflection in the Tornio's back window.

"Many times," Hutch purred.

The sultry pitch of Hutchinson's dulcet voice made Starsky shiver. The real sound was even sexier than the sound Hutch made in his dreams.

Ravishing Hutch's neck, Starsky rubbed his cock between the cheeks of Hutch's ass as he said, "Playing Marshall and Outlaw would be even more fun, because you look so sexy when you wear that cowboy hat and denim vest."

"What about the boots?' Hutch teased, heart aglow because Starsky's compliment flattered him so much.

"Don't mention those boots," Starsky warned Hutch, pinching the blond's nipples.

Hutch's nipples were aroused and very sensitive. Hutch hissed like a horny snake when Starsky pinched those tiny little coppery nubs.

Hutch laughed when he finally caught his breath.

"Foot fetishist," Hutch teased.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black! YOU were the one who bought me those black shoes that nearly broke my insteps because YOU thought they looked nice on my feet. Don't play innocent with me, Cinderfella."

Hutch's laugh turned into a sarcastic groan.

"Now is NOT the time to make me think of Jerry Lewis, Starsk. What are you trying to do, kill the mood?"

Starsky's laugh turned into an amused snort.

Reaching behind him to grab Starsky's cock, Hutch said, "Hey, Sex Pistol! Are you gonna bang me or are you just gonna keep driving me nuts with those hands while you shoot off your mouth?"

"Both," Starsky sassed, kissing the nape of Hutch's neck in a way that made the big blond shiver.

Groaning in ecstasy, Hutch writhed beneath Starsky's sensuous mouth as his partner slowly kissed his way down his spine.

By the time Starsky playfully nipped his butt, Hutch was so languid he felt boneless. The only thing that felt hard was his cock and the blood trapped in his penis was thumping like jungle drums.

When Starsky impishly licked the apex of his butt crack, Hutch nearly went into orbit!

The sensation was so startling--and so unexpectedly intense--Hutch almost rammed his head into the Torino's back windshield when his body surged forward like a charging bull.

Starsky's devilish chuckle was wickedly triumphant.

"Hold on tight, Baby Blue. If you liked that, this is gonna make you dive head-first into the trunk," Starsky warned Hutch.

"YES!!!" Hutch yowled exultantly as Starsky sensuously rimmed his anus with that sorcerer's tongue.

Hutch couldn't believe Starsky was pleasuring him like that, but it worked. Hutch not only relaxed, he flowered; like a rose unfurling in the rays of the morning sun.

"Yes! Oh… YES!" Hutch babbled, writhing incessantly as Starsky made him feel like he was unraveling from within.

Starsky's tongue left Hutch's body screaming for more. When Starsky gently eased one cum-slick finger into him, Hutch was so high on pure lust he felt like he could suck Starsky into his body whole through that tiny opening.

"Give it to me!" Hutch pleaded, begging for Starsky's cock like he'd once begged Starsky to give him a fix of heroin.

Starsky never gave him the heroin, but he did give him that hard, lusty cock.

Hutch couldn't believe how wonderful it felt to be stretched by Starsky's fingers. Starsky was so patient, so gentle, so incredibly tender and evocative, Hutch felt like a melting candle as Starsky lovingly prepared him for even more pleasure with the nectar from his body.

Starsky's lips never stopped loving him with words and with kisses. Hutch had never felt so desirable or so cherished. 

Hutch didn't want to let Starsky's fingers go! His body clung to them so plaintively he almost wept because the loss felt so unbearable.

"Shhh, Baby Blue. Just let me love you," Starsky crooned, kissing Hutch’s neck in a sensitive spot he found that made his partner bask.

Hutch gave himself to Starsky whole-heartedly; eagerly thrusting back as soon as Starsky pressed the crown of his cock against the most intimate part of his body.

Starsky had relaxed him so much, and prepared him so well, Hutch experienced no pain. What he felt was a wondrous sensation of being filled by something too magical to comprehend.

Starsky's cock felt so exquisite as it entered his body, Hutch was transformed by the power of Starsky's love.

There were tears in Starsky's eyes too when he said, "I love you, Hutch."

With every thrust he said, "I love you!" passion building within them both like steam inside a pressure cooker.

Hutch couldn't get enough of Starsky's cock. Every thrust was so thoroughly satisfying; Hutch became addicted to the sensation. It made him feel like he was a dolphin joyously leaping in ocean waves.

Because that's what Starsky's joy looked like in the reflection of the Torino's back windshield. Starsky surged into every thrust with such uninhibited glee he looked like a leaping dolphin as he savored every thrust. Strong, happy, and playful, Starsky enjoyed sex like dolphins enjoyed frolicking in the ocean.

When Starsky was beyond speech, the ascent to passion's peak began in earnest. Each thrust took them both higher. Each groan sounded deeper.  
Each sensation became more dazzling and more precious. Like the sight of sunlight beaming through the trees of a forest or the sound of a baby's first laugh.

When he reached the summit of pleasure, Hutch came like an erupting volcano! Cum spewing from his cock like red-hot lava as Starsky held onto his cock with both hands as he fucked him hard and deep.

Hutch couldn't believe how good that orgasm felt! His heart soared so high, so fast, he almost lost consciousness. Then he felt Starsky explode inside him and the meaning of sexual Nirvana was redefined in ways Hutch never imagined.

Wishing he had a womb, Hutch held Starsky close, cuddling his naked lover as they savored the afterglow of their torrid lovemaking in the cum-drenched back seat of Starsky's beloved Torino.

Starsky's curly head was resting on his shoulder and their cocks were still in each other's hands.

For once Fate was giving them a break. The jewel thieves had not shown up yet, but the rain had. The world outside the Torino looked like a Monet painting as water ran in rivulets down the curved glass as they dozed.

Starsky was so blissed out he said, "I feel like the cake in that song, Hutch."

"What song?"

"The one about MacArthur Park."

Hutch smiled.

"You know," Starsky said, looking up at his blond stud. "The one where the chick says she left it out in the rain and it dissolved."

Chuckling, Hutch kissed Starsky's sweaty temple and said, "Rain pinging on a metal roof always makes you sleepy. You're not dissolving, you're basking."

"And you're sitting in the wet spot," Starsky gloated.

Laughing, Hutch gave Starsky's awesome ass a playful swat that echoed erotically in the leather interior of the car.

"Who's fault is that? You hosed me good."

Starsky laughter was naughty and raucous.

"I love it when you talk dirty," Starsky purred.

Curious, because he'd never been ravished by a man, Starsky's hot, lusty eyes gleamed like polished sapphires as he asked, "Could you feel it when I exploded inside of you?"

"Like liquid fire," Hutch groaned as he kissed Starsky passionately.

"You hurtin'?" Starsky fretted.

"Like an addict needing a fix," Hutch gloated.

Starsky's smile was beautiful: like sunshine after rain.

Tenderly kissing the tiny mole beneath Starsky's right eye after he gave Starsky another ravenous kiss, Hutch said, "I'm fine, Starsky. I'm just squirming because I'm sitting in the wet spot."

"Yeah, right," Starsky grumbled. "Roll over so I can check you out, Smart Ass."

Hutch sighed peevishly, but he rolled onto his hip so Starsky could examine his backside.

"See anything?" Hutch sassed as he looked at Starsky over his shoulder.

"Not really. It's too dark in here."

"No shit, Sherlock! We're lurking in the shadows. Dark alleys are supposed to be dark."

"Ow!" Hutch yelled when Starsky pinched his backside.

During their brief, giggling scuffle Hutch's Magnum fell off the seat and the rain stopped.

"Now YOU'RE sitting in the wet spot," Hutch gloated as he pinned Starsky to the seat, straddling Starsky's lap.

"Yeah, but I got you right where I want you, TBS." Running his hands all over his partner's lean, muscular body, Starsky kissed Hutch passionately.

"TBS?" Hutch murmured between kisses.

"Tall, Blond & Sexy."

Every time Hutch blushed when he laughed, Starsky found the demure response even more endearing.

Hutch was a gorgeous, loving man who didn't realize his own worth. Haunted by doubts and myriad insecurities, Hutch nuzzled the warm, loving hand that caressed his face and said, "I'm glad you find me attractive."

"Attractive?" Starsky scoffed. "You're gorgeous, Hutch."

It thrilled Hutch to hear Starsky say that. Hutch loved the sound of Starsky's voice. The faint trace of a Brooklyn accent was music to Hutchinson's ears.  
Hutch shivered because it felt like his eardrums were being caressed by feathers.

Trilling inside like a cooing pigeon, Hutch basked in the sunshine of Starsky's adoration as he watched Starsky caress his face and admire his body.

Hutch had never thought of himself as gorgeous, but he was glad Starsky did.

"I'm just handsome," Hutch demured. "You're the one who's gorgeous Starsky."

Starsky was not ashamed of being vain, so he puffed up like strutting peacock when Hutch paid him that compliment.

"I'm glad you think so, Blintz. I work hard to stay this buff," Starsky quipped.

"That's you," Hutch chortled. "Buff The Wonder Stud."

"Wonder Stud. I like that," Starsky gloated.

The comment would have been insufferable had Starsky not been blushing.

"You like Wonder Bread too, Big Head."

"Bigger than yours," Starsky teased, rubbing the crowns of their cocks together like he was trying to invent a new way to Eskimo kiss.

Hutch laughed as he kissed the brazen imp.

Starsky loved to play with his cock. Hutch enjoyed playing with Starsky’s even more.

"What are you trying to do, Geronimo, start another fire by rubbing our sticks together?"

"Gotta earn that merit badge somehow, Sea Scout."

"You're incorrigible!"

"Bein' corrigible is no fun," Starsky sassed as he fondled Hutch's balls.

"Jingle Balls, Jingle Balls, Jingle Balls ROCK!" Starsky sang as he teased Hutch with his fingers and his naughty rendition of one of their favorite Christmas songs.

Laughing, Hutch shushed Starsky with a kiss then said, "Does being horny always cause these karaoke outbursts?"

"Only when I'm with you, Babe. You're the only person I know who understands my music jokes."

"I'm the only person who understands any of your jokes, Starsky."

"Guess that means we're soulmates, huh?"

"Guess so," Hutch murmured, heart melting anew as he kissed Starsky again.

"Think we should get dressed?" Starsky murmured as dawn heralded the start of a brand new day.

"Probably," Hutch sighed.

"Race ya!' Starsky said, grabbing his jeans off the floor.

Hutch didn't believe it was possible but Starsky shimmied into his jeans faster than he yanked on his own.

"How'd you do that?" Hutch roared.

"Magic," Starsky murmured as he did a sleight of hand trick and pretended to pull a coin out of Hutch's ear like a magician. "Call it!" Starsky yelled as he flipped the coin into the air.

"Tails!"

"Heads," Starsky gloated as Hutch caught the coin in mid-air and flipped it over on the back of his other hand.

"Damn!"

"You get to clean the Torino."

"It's YOUR car. YOU clean the Torino."

"That's not how the coin toss rule works, Hutch."

"Rules are made to be broken," Hutch purred.

Starsky couldn't resist that seductive kiss.

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Breakfast in bed."

"Where? Your place or mine?"

"Flip the coin again. Let it decide."

"Okay," Starsky agreed wickedly. "Heads we go to my place and I get to suck your dick. Tails we go to Venice Place so you can tie me to that brass headboard and ravish me repeatedly."

Starsky flipped the coin into the air again and Hutch caught it in mid-air again.

But when Hutch caught it this time, he tossed the coin out the window.

"Hey! That's my Lucky Quarter!"

"You got that right, Lover Boy. Because we're going to The Regency and ordering room service because I don't feel like cooking."

Laughing as Hutch kissed him, Starsky ran his fingers through that luminous blond hair and said, "What DO you feel like doing?"

"Making you suck my cock until I'm hard. Then I'm gonna tie you upright between the between the posts of one of those four-post beds and watch your cum make a mess out of that bedspread like it made a mess out of my cashmere sweater when I fuck you raw."

Starsky's wanton laughter gave Hutch goosebumps as they kissed.

"I was only responsible for half the mess on your sweater. YOU made the rest of the mess your sweater first."

"Because I was dreaming about you in those sexy red long johns," Hutch revealed.

"THAT'S what was being unbuttoned in your dream?"

"Yeah. What did you think was being unbuttoned in that dream?"

Shushing Hutch with a kiss, Starsky said, "You don't want to know."

The End


End file.
